M1 was short, Dominican, with black coils for curls, and an impressive poker face. A previous Sargent in the Army Reserves, she spoke briskly, did not mince words, was orderly, always clean and tidy, and smelled lovely wherever she went. She had an icy demeanor with a tendency to thaw around me. She had very pretty dimples when she smiled, but those were reserved for special occasions. In our last days of living together she became rather insufferable. I was hurt because our rent was raised and the only reason I had agreed to continue living there was because she had asked me to. She practically begged, reasoned that I knew how difficult it was for her to get out of her shell enough to feel comfortable around anyone and she was very happy living with me and we both only had 3 more quarters to go in our schooling so wouldn't it be easier than having to get reacquainted to a new living situation. I agreed. I liked our home too. It was quiet. She was a clean and respectful house mate. We got along. We both did chores. Our living room was always immaculate. We always had food enough to share and would often cook for each other. It was like living with family. At least for me. When M1's father died she became reclusive, which is understandable. However that was when she had begged me to sign our leasing agreement. so I acquiesced. A couple months later I noticed little by little her things were disappearing. Books, a table lamp, bookshelves, pillows all disappeared into what I then assumed was her room. Until one day she came to me and said she was moving out. I could see how empty her room looked down the hall. I couldn't afford to live in the space by myself. I didn't fight her, just told her she needed to find someone to sublease before she left.
I'm not sure still if she wanted me to fight her on the matter or not but it didn't matter. I had midterms to worry about and I was upset. I was upset for her and at her. Several very uncomfortable random people walking through our apartment later she found M2. Nice enough guy. That was that. I came home one day to find M1 gone without so much as a good bye. she had left holes on the walls from tearing her TV down (which her boyfriend had installed promising to fill the wholes and whatnot when we first moved in in 2013...) and getting her furniture out of the house. She had left me a Victoria's Secret bag that I often commented on liking, and that was all.
We didn't talk again for a month when she asked me to go to Easter Mass with her. Then we patched things up and she took me out the following month for my birthday but enough of that.
M2 was completely the opposite of M1. M2 was from Wisconson, a red-headed Irish boy with the most spectacularly TV Irish name possible (meaning if his name was written by american screenwriters you get me?) and tons of tattoos, piercings, and shoulder-length frizzy undercut hairstyle. He was soft spoken and friendly. Always wore boots and chains and plaid and looked like he had only ever stepped foot in thrift stores that specifically sold HotTopic merchandise. He worked in the Theater department at UCD, building sets for the local productions. He couldn't cook, seamed incapable of cleaning, and when asked would half-assedly take the trash out, often making more of a mess in the process. I got so sick of my dishes disappearing into his room and suddenly popping up in the dishwasher with gunk stuck to them that I started just doing his dishes every day. I hated it, but it was like living at home and was only a going to last till August so I bit my tongue.I cooked. I cleaned. One day I had to clean his bathroom because we were having a "surprise" inspection and all I can say is oh my god. Disgusting. The man didn't even have hand soap or towels near his sink. I was utterly repulsed.
Like I said before though I'm from a small town, I can be polite and get along with just about everyone and aside from a couple of dishes disputes and one day when he ate an entire lasagna (that I had spent the previous day slaving over even putting portions into smaller tins for freezing for later) we got along fine. I would vacuum up the splinters he would shed everyday after coming in from work. I'd wipe down his fingerprints from the walls and cabinets, and when he eventually got off the couch after not showering again for the 3rd or 4th day I would spray down the couch with vodka and Febreeze, fluff the pillows and replace the throw blanket, while that one got a wash.
I had so many glade plug-ins I'm shocked our apartment never burned down. Still, as long as his bedroom door was closed, and he wasn't home, one would never notice that he lived there.
On days when he finally decided to do his laundry, presumably when coworkers would complain of his rather pungent self, he would don a kilt and an extremely over sized hockey jersey and there was no saving my poor apartment or my poor nose of the rank and lingering smell of sweaty balls. My eyes would literally water. I would open every room in our apartment in an attempt to dissipate the offending smell as quickly as possible and all I could do was cringe when a neighbor would walk by and exclaim over it.
Luckily, he had a break from work from June-July, and went to visit his then girlfriend in Washington, which meant I had the apartment to do with as I pleased for a good while and all I can say is that I now miss living alone. I miss the freedom of being able to shower at 3AM after waking up from a bad dream only to then get back in bed feeling clean and safe. I miss falling asleep after work at 6PM only to rise at 10PM, do homework, cook, clean, shower and lay out my things for the next day only to fall asleep at 4AM for another 2 and a half hours and then rising for the day with no questions asked. No one to complain of my living schedule. No one else's dishes to do. No one else to clean up after. It was wonderful. If I got lonely I could invite over anyone I liked for as long as I liked with no need to worry about offending the house mate. That was my favourite.
When his girlfriend eventually dumped him for being a slob, I kid you not, he told me so but in different language. basically I think he said, "she didn't want to care for me anymore, said it was too much." but we all know that means, you're a slob, I'm sick of cleaning after you, go home. But I said nothing but a noncommittal apology. Literally at the time I had just stopped by the apartment after class intent on grabbing a bathing suit and heading to my friend's pool, only to find my apartment door open a crack. I remember being horrified, until I pushed it open and spotted M2 lounging on the couch looking worse than usual with wine bottles littering the floor and dripping onto the coffee table and presumably the carpet. It was quite the display and despite the fact that he was utterly gutted, I took no pity on the guy who was stinking up my perfectly tidy apartment. I grabbed my suit, told him to shower and get a nap in and to clean up all the bottles and maybe I'd grab us dinner later.
I don't remember what happened much after that but you get the gist.
I finished up my classes in September and M2 looked for housing elsewhere. I remained friends with M1 and M2 on facebook for a long while but deleted my account in the end of 2016. I have no idea how either are doing now. Sometimes I feel guilty, but I'm sure they're fine.
It's funny, I guess that's the lesson of the day here. The world keeps turning. Life keeps happening.
One of these days I'll share some truly ridiculous dates that I had during my time in UCD but this is enough for now. I'd also like to recount more of my times spent with the lifelong friends I made there and bring more positive memories to the front.
I can't say I'm the same effervescent girl I was when I wrote these past passages. But I do miss her. The way the world would glow and the possibilities were endless. But these retellings will be told from a twenty-something perspective now. I do intend to write though. It feels so good to get the thoughts out. to go back. Review what I've lived through, chart a new path to where I am going.
Wish me luck!
Ink_Stained
